


my silent lips have written so many love letters

by oddpen



Category: Mamamoo
Genre: F/F, Internalized Homophobia, Moonbyul-centric, Multi, OT4, Pre Debut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2017-01-09
Packaged: 2018-07-18 17:56:23
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7324924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oddpen/pseuds/oddpen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>But there’s one thing Byulyi had wished wouldn’t follow her.</p>
<p>These feelings, these urges towards girls too pretty too perfect. The ghost of her first kiss, behind the school building, the taste of peach lip gloss from the other pair of lips.</p>
<p>Her heart has stopped beating so harshly, her cheeks still burning. But she keeps wondering if Hyejin’s skin is as soft as it looks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. .01

Byulyi’s heart beats erratically, nodding along to the panel facing her. It’s all static noise to her, her hand still gripping her microphone, her chest heaving with her nerves.  
  
It feels like eons, eons of standing under the scrutiny, the judging eyes, the rustling of notes being pushed around, words spoken to her that she can’t process.  
  
“You pass,” is what finally catches her, her eyes go wide, the slightest bit, the hold on her microphone goes lax, she scrambles to keep it in her hand.  
  
“ _What?_ ” she asks, blinking rapidly, watching as everyone breaks into smiles, “r-really?” she stutters, “ _really?_ ”  
  
There’s a lot of feelings she can’t process as she’s taken into the office, sitting down with a representative.  
  
The chair is too soft, too plush, she feels as if she’s sinking, sinking away from the moment.  
  
The draw up a contract.  
  
Moon Byulyi is now a vocal trainee under Rainbow Bridge. They give her her training schedule, tentative dates for evaluations. They tell her to lose weight.  
  
She smiles through it all, holding her breath, nodding to all the terms, all the conditions, every single requirement she’s meant to fall under if she ever dreams of debuting.  
  
She walks out and the sun is still shining though the windows. There’s still people going around their business, as if Byulyi’s world hasn’t just completely changed, as if he’s not a step closer to her long life goal.  
  
“Excuse,” she says nervously, stopping a lady from her path, “could you…” she swallows nervously, “could you take a picture of me?”  
  
The lady nods, taking her phone, smiling when Byulyi pulls up her copy of her contract, offering an awkward smile when the lady prompts her to.  
  
“Thank you,” she bows, taking her phone back.  
  
“Good luck,” the lady replies.  
  
Byulyi bows again, mumbling another thank you as the lady walks away.  
  
-  
  
The apartment she’s found in Seoul is small. She gets to it after long days of training, turning on the lights, greeted by silence.  
She walks to her room, picks out sleeping clothes before she turns on the lights of the bathroom.  
  
It takes a while for the room to become fully lighted. Byulyi watches the way the brightening light changes the shadows on her face, finally beginning to strip when the lights get to their brightest setting.  
  
The sounds of the shower echo loudly in the dark apartment, raising an eerie feeling, growing goosebumps along Byulyi’s bare arms.  
She washes away the sweat, the day long frustration of exercising, of dance, of singing until her throat feels raw, her voice catching, fading into a crackle.  
  
Her presses her palm against her throat, grimacing at the itch the hours of vocal practice has left behind.  
  
She misses her mother at these times, as she makes way to her kitchen, listening to the rush of the water from the faucet, the clicking of her stove.  
  
There’s only a little bit of honey left when she searches through her pantry, just enough for a cup of tea. She’ll have to buy some more tomorrow.  
  
Byulyi grimaces when the tea burns down her throat, burning down her chest and stomach, causing her to shiver.  
  
She rubs her hands up her arms, finally finding her way back to her room. Noise rushes into the room when she opens the window, the sounds of the night, the cars, the people still unable to find their way home.  
  
When she lays down and the spring breeze finally reaches towards her, she can’t help but wonder when it’ll all start feeling real.  
  
-  
  
Ahn Hyejin looks at her in a way that makes her blood boil.  
  
Her face is soft, features coming together to form a fresh baby face. But her eyes are harsh, pinning Byulyi down, unwavering, _prying_.  
  
She hasn’t met all the trainees yet, but when Hyejin gets introduced to her, a promise of crossing paths mumbled to them as an explanation, Byulyi can’t help it.  
  
Can’t help the way she looks at the other girl and her heart starts to act strangely.  
  
She excuses herself to the bathroom once they exchange names and bows, locking the stall behind her, trying to calm down, trying to remember her schedule.  
  
She’s seen girls like Ahn Hyejin before, dangerous looking, too poised, too out of her league, so completely unlike Byulyi.  
  
There’s many things she’s left behind with her mom and dad. Her home, her friends, her sisters.  
  
But there’s one thing Byulyi had wished wouldn’t follow her.  
  
These feelings, these urges towards girls _too pretty too perfect_. The ghost of her first kiss, behind the school building, the taste of peach lip gloss from the other pair of lips.  
  
Her heart has stopped beating so harshly, her cheeks still burning. But she keeps wondering if Hyejin’s skin is as soft as it looks.  
  
-  
  
 _Falling in love at an all girls school was something Byulyi hadn’t planned. But as she took in the inky black of her hair, the narrowness of her nose, her face, Byulyi had fallen.  
  
Shy fingers hovering, smiles that were too sweet, _shy _. Byulyi’s heart had been too excited, too smitten at the smell of cherry blossoms, the smallest of rises from their pleated skirts.  
  
The other girl had been pretty, sharp eyes and so gentle Byulyi hadn’t tried to escape, falling victim to the darkness of her eyes, the shock of pink her lips formed.  
  
They had been friends, something much _more _intimate in a way they knew was wrong but could not fight off.  
  
Held hands led to fleeting touches, Byulyi’s thumb caressing over the ridge of knuckles, a soft hand pressing warm to Byulyi’s cheek. Warmness spread in the most quiet moments, hidden away, always ready to pull apart but so _unwilling _.  
  
Her first kiss had not been anything like she had seen in dramas or read in stories. Byulyi’s pulse had gone wild, crossing the line of _just enough _and_ no return _. The slim fingers wrapping around the back of her neck, the taste of lip gloss and bubble gum had been_ so sugary, so intoxicating. _  
  
Byulyi had cried herself to sleep that night.  
  
Upset, scared, shaken.  
  
Wanting _more _._  
  
-  
  
There’s an empty dance room, door open. Byulyi pushes the door further, lights flickering on when she sets foot onto the shiny wooden floor. The mirrors lined against the walls catch Byulyi by surprise, every angle, every turn reflected back at her.  
  
She sets up the speakers in the corner, putting the last song she had been listening to, anxious to see what her body still remembers.  
  
Her moves aren’t as sharp as they used to be, her timing is off. It’s frustrating, when she feels sweat running down her back, feels her knee already hurting. The music is too loud, too distracting, she feels like tearing her hair out.  
  
She turns around abruptly, going to the sound system, yanking her phone away, fingers pressing angrily to stop the faint music still playing pitifully.  
  
When she looks up, the door is open, Hyejin’s eyes watching her carefully, face neutral.  
  
Byulyi feels like she has to say something, feels like she should be mad. But she just watches, silent, fingers locking and unlocking the screen of her phone.  
  
“Hyejin-ah,” someone calls out, voice flowing, almost musical.  
  
Byulyi watches as another girl crashes against Hyejin’s side, hands holding on to her shoulder, chin place on top. Her hair curls at the bottom, long and dark brown.  
  
Byulyi takes note of her eyes, the downward slant of them charming. She smiles, Byulyi watches as dimples crease soft cheeks, the way her eyes close with the force of her happiness.  
  
“It’s late,” the girl says, voice is loud, “let’s go home.”  
  
Byulyi looks away when the girl’s eyes land on her, bowing in return when the other does the same.  
  
There’s no introduction, just the creaking of the floorboards when Hyejin gets pulled away.  
  
She sighs as she turns off the speakers, clicking the lights off, closing the door behind her. As she collects her things, spirits low, she remembers she needs honey.  
  
The streets are still full with people, even with the late hour. Byulyi walks into the first convenience store she finds, eyes narrowing at the brightness of the neon signs, the blinking red and blues and oranges.  
  
The cashier greets her, Byulyi offers a smile, ducking quickly to find what she needs. She spots her jar of honey along the teas, thinking for a second before she buys some more green tea bags.  
  
The cashier scans and bags her purchase without attempts at small talk, Byulyi feels oddly relieved about that.  
  
Breathes out when her change is pushed back at her, her bag handed to her. She leaves with the whooshing sound of the closing door, greeted by the static noise of the city.  
  
The street is empty of foot traffic, Byulyi wonders just how long she was in the store. As she goes to make a turn on the sidewalk she catches the shadows close together, embraced in a way Byulyi hasn’t been in years. She recognizes the line of the slope of the nose, the tilt of the other’s voice. Byulyi watches as a passing car lights them up for a split second, allowing Byulyi to see the shine of Hyejin’s eyes, the tight hold of each others arms.  
  
The lights of the car passes by, turning them off just as the other girl goes to kiss Hyejin.  
  
There’s a strange feeling raging in Byulyi’s stomach. A burning, hurting feeling, the strangest feeling rushing up her chest, trying to bring the prickling heat to the corner of her eyes.  
  
As she walks away she realizes it’s sadness.  
  
-  
  
She can’t wash away the feeling, no matter how hot the water scalds her or how harshly she scrubs. The burn of her tea feels gentle to the feeling still raging around her intestines, around her heart.  
  
She lays in the darkness, wet hair soaking through her pillow and tries not to remember.  
  
-  
  
 _The kiss had been like the crack running along the dam. Byulyi was pushed down, completely powerless against crashing wave upon crashing wave, pulling her under, towards the dark abyss, the unknown._  
  
The fleeting kisses, the touches turned sensual, Byulyi craved them as much as she feared them.  
  
“Byulyi-ah,” she had said, voice dropping, “you know I love you right?”  
  
She had fallen so in love, to the taste of peach lip gloss ,the overly sweet smell of artificial cherry blossoms, the softness of snow white skin.  
  
When it was dark in their neighborhood, when the night boiled down to the sound of crickets, the stars barely pushing past the light pollution, Byulyi felt so in love, sitting on her porch, lights on, thighs pressed together, hands holding on tightly.  
  
A kiss was too risky.  
  
“I don’t love you,” she said instead.


	2. .02

As time passes, the hours of practice and physical exertion bury the regretful feelings trying to break through.  

Byulyi spends a day off going through her clothes, getting rid of the ones that no longer fit her, putting them in another pile for donations.  

She’s managed to lose some weight with her long days, all the dancing she’s been doing, the lack of time to eat have helped her along.  

There’s still weight she can afford to lose but at this point she can’t bring herself to strain herself anymore.  Debut keeps feeling further and further from her, it’s disheartening.

The spring air is becoming thicker with summer seeping into the city.  

There’s a lot of things that have become impossible for Byulyi.  She’s gotten used to not being good enough.

She ties her hair into a low ponytail, lifting the bag of old clothes over her shoulder.

“Ah,” she says to herself, “hopefully these find good homes.”

-

The girl at the counter is pretty.  Byulyi puts down her bag, eyes lowering when the other looks at her.  

“Welcome,” the girl says, “are you here to drop off or pick up?”

Byulyi offers a small smile, kicking the bag in front of her, “I’m here to drop off.”

The other girl has wide eyes, eyelashes curving prettily, lips soft pink, almost like petals.

“I’ll get someone to bring this back for weighing,” the girl says, smile pretty.

“I-I can do it,” Byulyi stutters, “it’s not that much.”

The girl leads her to a small room, piles of neatly folded clothes in shelves, unsorted bags in the corner.

Byulyi drops the bag on the weighing machine, watching the numbers go up.

“Why do you weight them?” Byulyi asks, voice nervous, trying to break the still air of the room.

The girl turns to look at her, writing down numbers on an empty form.

“Some people do this for money,” she says, “but we also weigh them to keep track.”

Byulyi nods, watching the other girl check off boxes.

“Sign here,” she says, smiling once more, “so we can keep you in our records.”

They’re close enough that Byulyi feels the way her heart speeds up, reacting at being so close to such a pretty girl,

“Thank you,” the girl says once Byulyi hands back the forms, voice light, cheery.

It’s enough to ruin her day, another reminder of her past.  

But she _can’t_ help it.

Can’t help how attracted she is to other girls.   _Prettier girls_ than her.  Their bright eyes entice her, their softness so alluring.

She groans as she walks outside the building, the sun higher up, people still at work, streets empty.

She starts walking, letting her feet guide her way.  Her mind is not with her.  Thinking frantically, wanting to know what’s wrong with her.  

Byulyi ends up in front of the Rainbow Bridge building, her feet used to taking her there after months.  She considers going inside but realizes there’s no one she would like to see.

So she moves past it, walking to the convenience store, making the most of her feet’s faulty habits.

When the door opens, the cashier greets her, a teenage boy, kind looking.

Byulyi bows in acknowledgement, making her way to the drinks section.

She stops at the corner, eyes landing on the other person rummaging through the refrigerators.  Byulyi takes a step back, shoes squeaking against the tiled floor.

Hyejin looks back at her, bare face shiny with the lights of the store, eyes gone soft without makeup.

Byulyi thinks of going to the nearest aisle, the snack aisle, wait it out until the other moves away.

“Hi,” Hyejin says, pulling out a can of coffee, “I didn’t see you in the practice rooms today.”

Byulyi swallows, throat gone dry.

“I didn’t have to go in today,” she answers hastily.

Hyejin closes the refrigerator, taking a step towards Byulyi.

“You still get days off,” she says, mostly to herself.

Byulyi nods either way.

“Enjoy them while you can,” Hyejin finally says, voice louder, bordering on bright.

Byulyi watches her walk away, hears her make small talk with the cashier, voice soft, fragile sounding, so appealing.

She only moves once the door closes, the outside noises leaking in.

The day drags on after that.  Byulyi becomes restless, stays idly in her small apartment, she only has a radio, playing the latest hits, transitioning into news.  

The evening boredom bleeds into sadness and Byulyi calls it an early night.  
-

She wakes up early for a day full of training, drinking a hot cup of tea as breakfast, slipping on her most comfortable shoes.  

The morning is still dark, Byulyi watches as the street lights start to fade out, flickering at the brightening sky.  The early risers walking briskly to their jobs.  The lights on buildings beginning to switch on.

The quietness of the hour is a little discomforting, Byulyi picks up her step, moving into a half jog.

She finds herself at the main entrance at the same time as Hyejin, looking just as sleepy, just as unsettled.

“Good morning,” Hyejin says, opening the door, moving a little to the side to let Byulyi pass through.

Byulyi nods as an answer, moving quickly, planning to push through when Hyejin’s voice catches her again.

“Are you almost done for your assessment?”

Byulyi stops, turns slightly to face the other girl.

Byulyi has been working hard on perfecting her song, has taken extra care of her vocals.  But under Hyejin’s expectant gaze she wonders if it’s enough.

“Yeah,” she says anyway, “it would be crazy not to be.”

Hyejin laughs quietly at that, nodding in understanding, shuffling closer to Byulyi, letting the door go.

“You’ll do well,” she says, voice barely breaking over the dull morning.

Byulyi watches her walk away, towards the main offices, the CEO.  

Her day starts not long after that.  She gets herded into a vocal room, piano in the corner.  The building is full of trainees, many already promised to companies, to soon to come groups.  Byulyi has seen them come and go but the girl waiting idly by the corner is new, Byulyi stops in her tracks.

Usually she practices with some other girl trainees, others from the same company trying to debut.  This girl looks a little lost, her cheeks still full, eyes bright.

Their eyes meet in the mirror, the other girl turning to face her fully, mouth dropping into a silent question.  Byulyi doesn’t say anything as the silence covers her, _suffocates_ her, tensing when she sees staff approach them, a heavy hand resting on her shoulder.

“Have you met?” someone asks her, Byulyi can’t really focus, eyes caught in the pinkness of the girl’s lips, the _urgent_ feeling in her chest, burning, bordering on panic.

“I’m Kim Yongsun,” the girl bows to her, hair falling in a curtain with the motion.

She feels the way her mouth forms her name _Moon Byulyi_.

There’s a lot of things that could go wrong.  Debuting is rarely promised.  As Byulyi watches staff surround them, watches the way Kim Yongsun smiles, she feels her chances fall away.

When Kim Yongsun’s arms circle around her waist, her heart skips a beat.

-

Byulyi finds a quiet corner.  On the last floor under the window at the end of a small hallway.  She plugs her headphones into her phone.  It’s an old model, chipping at the sides.  It’s one of the few things Byulyi could not leave home.

There’s pictures of her mom, her sisters, songs she loved passionately in middle school.  

She watches, unfocused, as the shadows of the moving clouds and sun change their slant on the floor.  It's quiet, the floor full of offices, most empty.  She can hear the faint pings of the elevators, the taping of shoes.  She doesn’t think much of them. Scrolling through her mp3 files, Byulyi can almost feel at ease, forget the meeting between her and the other girl.  Her evaluation is coming up soon, Byulyi _can’t_ be left behind.

“What are you doing here?” the voice sounds too familiar, a low tone, bordering on indulgent.

Byulyi looks up, eyes going up the soft lines that make Hyejin up, landing on the unwavering gaze the other girl pins her down with.  

“Nothing,” she murmurs, manages to look away, stops her music from playing.  Hyejin walks closer, sneakers worn out, toe nudging Byulyi’s foot.

“If you’re good,” Hyejin takes a small step back, mouth dropping into a smile, eyes changing, almost challenging, “a pretty face like hers doesn’t really matter.”

Byulyi doesn’t say anything to that, starting her music back again.

She looks up after a couple of songs and Hyejin is gone.

-

Byulyi is passing through the hallways, vocal rooms all occupied, Byulyi’s had her days worth of practice, moping around for far too long.  The night is dark when Byulyi looks out the window, when she takes the stairs back down and all the vocal rooms are still full.  

She hears her, knows it’s _her_.  It’s a voice she hasn’t heard before.  

It’s a powerful tone, notes shaky at times but Byulyi knows it’s already better than where she stands.

She doesn’t have to look to see that it’s Yongsun but she opens the door quietly, watches for a second as the other girl sings lyrics printed on white sheets.  Her technique is not the best but she sounds so good already, Byulyi’s stomach sinks.  

She closes the door slowly, stuffing her hands into her pants’ pockets and begins walking home.


End file.
